


The Living and the Dead

by owlmoose



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-29
Updated: 2011-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivanova gets a visitor on the Day of the Dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Living and the Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an AU where Ivanova stayed on as commander of Babylon 5, during the Season 5 episode "Day of the Dead". A fix-it story... of sorts. Major spoilers.

"You want to buy Babylon 5 for a religious ceremony." Captain Susan Ivanova favored the Brakiri ambassador with her most skeptical glare, hands behind her back. "With actual money. And then you want to sell it back to us."

"Not the whole station," the ambassador replied. "Only a portion of it, as outlined in our formal written request on page twelve, diagram--"

Ivanova cut him off with a shake of her head. "Oh, well, if it's only _part_ of the station. That's _completely_ different." She sighed heavily and tossed the stack of papers onto her desk. "But I don't see as I have much choice; freedom of religion is one of the principal elements of the Alliance charter, and as Earth's representative, I'm bound by it, aren't I?" She glanced at the outline of the station, noted the location of the lines the Brakiri had drawn. "Which means I'm your tenant for the night."

The Brakiri clasped his hands before him and dipped his chin, deferential. "Thank you, Captain Ivanova. On behalf of my people, I am grateful for your cooperation."

"Sure, sure." Ivanova waved him off as she lowered herself into her chair. "Just make sure to set me up with someone interesting, all right? If this comet really is bringing back the sprits of the dead, I'd rather not get stuck with one of your duller historical figures."

The ambassador smiled. "The credits will be transferred back into your accounts as soon as the ceremony is ended. Thank you again, Captain. May the Comet bring you wisdom."

-x-

The appointed hour grew nearer; Susan attended to her remaining duties and opted to retire early. She'd never been a particular fan of the supposedly-comic stylings of Reebo and Zooty, and sleep had been hard to come by, in recent months; best to avoid all the evening's events entirely. Especially-- but not that she believe that the dead would _actually_ return. Of course not; the idea was patently ridiculous, no matter how hysterical G'Kar was at the prospect. It had to be a metaphor of some sort, or perhaps a mass hallucination. Regardless, she wanted no part of it. She faced down her ghosts too often as it was.

A light dinner, a quick shower, a chapter of her new book, and then she was ready for bed. "Lights," she said, tossing the quilt over her shoulders; they dimmed obligingly, and she rolled over onto her side, letting her head nestle against her pillow.

"Sure you wouldn't rather leave them on?"

The voice came from the doorway, a voice she had all but willed herself to forget, except in dreams. Dreams, yes, this must be a dream, must be... Someone was there, though, someone Susan could see as she raised her head: the dim lights from the main room cast him in silhouette as he slid open the door panel. She squeezed her eyes tight shut, took a deep breath, and counted silently to twenty. Then she opened them again.

It hadn't worked; he was still there.

"I'm dreaming," she said, committing the words to the universe and willing them to be true. "I'm dreaming, and you're not really here. You can't be here. You're dead."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong." He stepped into the room, his cloak swinging around his legs. "Well, not about the being dead part. You're quite right about that. But-- the rest of it. You're not dreaming, and I am really here."

With a swipe of her fingers, she turned on the lamp at her bedside. And now she could deny it no longer, the truth of the man in her bedroom: Marcus Cole. She sat up in the bed, drawing the covers with her, wrapping the blanket tightly around her shoulders. Still, she shivered. "This is impossible!"

Marcus stepped closer to the bed. He looked exactly as he had on the day he'd died, almost a year ago: shoulder-length dark hair, neatly-trimmed beard, and dressed in his Ranger uniform. "It ought to be, I agree. And yet, somehow..." He dropped to one knee, and held out his hand. "The universe has a way of bringing us impossible things, doesn't it?"

Slowly, cautious, she reached toward him, fully expecting her hand to pass through his. It was a surprise when they brushed together, even more of a shock when his hand folded over hers, and he leaned over it for a kiss, a swift press of his lips to her flesh. For a moment she stared at their joined hands, at the top of his head; then she looked up. "You-- you're here."

"Told you so." He grinned at her, the same warm smile he had turned her way so many times, and suddenly it was too much to bear. She pulled her hand free, then shoved the covers aside and stood up, careful not to touch him as she threw on her robe and headed for the living area.

"Susan? Where are you going?" Marcus followed her movements, turning his around to look over his shoulder and up at her.

She paused in the doorway, a hand on the doorframe for balance. "Something strange is happening to my station. My first duty is to find out what. Once I know everyone is safe, then we'll talk."

-x-

"And so that's the situation." Susan peered through the static at President John Sheridan; so odd to be speaking to him through the interstellar communication network, even though he was only a few corridors away. "The portion of the station I sold to the Brakiri seems to have been transported, literally, to Brakiri space."

"I'd say I don't believe it, but considering some of the things I've seen..." Sheridan shook his head. "But everyone is safe?"

"Far as I can tell." Susan shrugged. "I checked in with Michael, and he says things seem to be under control on his end, too. I just broadcasted a message advising everyone to remain calm and stay in their quarters, and no one has sent me a panicked response yet. I think we're tucked in for the night."

"All right." John leaned forward, closer to the screen; Susan could see Delenn in the background, her face set with concern. "Call me if you need any help. Stay safe."

"Will do. Ivanova out." She tapped her link to close the connection, and then she turned around to see her visitor, seated calmly on the couch in a meditative pose, legs crossed at his ankles, hands resting palm-up on his knees. He lifted his eyes to her.

"All the ducks in a row, then? Are you ready to believe in me now?"

She didn't move, only crossed her arms. "Why are you here?"

"Because you called me." Marcus unfolded himself and stood, crossing the room to her. "You called me, Susan. You've been calling to me for months now, looking for the answer to the one question you never got to ask." He brought a hand forward, just slightly out from his side. "So, now I'm here. Are you going to ask it?"

She tried to hold back, but she couldn't, not anymore. "Why?" she cried, the word bursting from her with the force of a nuclear blast, the wail that had been pent up in her heart for so long. Her hands dropped to her sides and clenched into fists. "Why? Why did you do it? I didn't want it, would never have asked for it, didn't deserve it. So why? Why, goddammit? Why?"

He did not flinch from her, not from the anger and pain she had flung in his direction, not from the heat in her words. "We live for the one. We die for the one." He bowed to her. "In that moment, that time and place, I discovered that the one... was you."

Susan clamped her mouth shut, tightly. "But why?"

Marcus tipped his head sideways, still looking at her, sadness creeping into his pale eyes. "You know."

"Yes," she whispered, through the growing tightness in her throat. She knew. He had told her, the words echoing in her ears as she returned from the abyss... "But I didn't deserve it. I never deserved it. You knew I didn't love you back."

"I know." He nodded. "You weren't ready."

She stepped away, head shaking from side to side, fighting the urge to break down in tears. "I should have tried to be ready. I should have seen the truth, not run from it, not kept you at arm's length for so long. I should have let you make me happy. I should have..."

"A life built on 'should have's is no life at all." He was at her side again, his eyes catching hers, not letting them go. "You have regrets; so do I. Take it from me -- those regrets won't do you any good, in the end. You have to accept the reality and move on. You have to let me go."

"Let you go?" Susan frowned. "What are you talking about?"

He lowered his eyes, repeated the words. "You know."

The words were like a punch to her gut, and she jerked away, shaking her head again, violently. "No. No. I can't... you can't ask me to do that!"

"Yes, I can." He spoke softly, tenderly. "Susan. That's not me anymore, you know. That thing in the cryotube? It's not me. It hasn't been me for a long time. But as long as it's still there, following you on your travels through the universe, you'll never be able to move on."

She whirled around, fists so tight that her nails dug into her palms. "And what if I don't want to move on? Did you ever think of that?"

Closing the gap between them, he caught her hands in his, fingers lacing together. Warm, and real. Susan bit her lip, then looked up, letting herself meet his eyes yet again. "I didn't sacrifice myself just so that you could die a little every day. I died so that you might live. So live. If not for yourself, then for me."

Susan was inches from losing control, from dissolving into a nothingness of tears and grief. "Marcus--"

"Promise me." Marcus slid his hands up her arms to her elbows and took them in his grip, holding her together. "Please."

She wanted to say no. But she could no longer escape the face that he was right. finally, she nodded. "I-- tomorrow. When this is over. I will. I-- promise."

Marcus smiled, brought a gentle finger up to stroke her cheek. "Thank you."

"Promise me something in return?" Susan swallowed, her throat suddenly dry as she understood, knew the real reason she had nourished the vain hope of bringing him back someday.

"Anything." He squeezed her elbow with a nod.

"After this. When you go... back. Promise that you won't forget me."

"Forget you?" He spread his hand to fit her cheek into his palm, his thumb stroking her jawline. "Impossible. Wherever I am, whatever I am, I will always love you, Susan Ivanova."

"Good." And finally, she stepped into his arms, closed her eyes, and kissed him.

-x-

The honor guard had assembled hastily in the observation lounge, grouped around a silver coffin draped with the flag of the Rangers. Those station personnel who had been members of the Army of Light, all of the Rangers who could be called in on such short notice. Lennier, G'Kar, Garibaldi, Zach, Lyta. Stephen Franklin, standing a small distance apart, his personal grief written plainly on his face. John Sheridan and Delenn, flanking Captain Susan Ivanova, dressed for one last time in the black uniform of rebellion. All of them together, gathered for the belated funeral of Marcus Cole, hero of the Shadow War and the campaign against Earth.

Sheridan leaned close to Ivanova, spoke quietly in her ear. "Are you sure?" he asked. "If we waited just a little longer, we might find a way--"

She shook her head. "I'm sure, John. It's time."

He looked in her eyes; she looked back, and his gaze softened as he understood the truth of her words. "All right." His hand clasped her shoulder, and she responded with a small smile of gratitude. Taking strength from his encouragement, she stepped forward and made ready to address the crowd.

Every eye fell on Ivanova as she cleared her throat and began to speak. "The man we are here to honor and remember today was not a man who thought much of ceremony, or of speeches, or of following the rules at all, really." She let her gaze fall on Stephen, who let out a soft snort followed by a quick smile of remembrance. After nodding at him, she looked back into the group. "So I'm not going to give some big speech about what a hero he was, about all he accomplished and all he did, because everyone here already knows all that. Instead, I'm just going to say... goodbye." Walking over to the coffin, she rested her hand on the cool metal surface. "Goodbye, Marcus. And thank you. For everything."

No one else moved or spoke as the dais sunk to the floor and into the hatch beneath; Susan's fingers curled in on themselves as she watched it go. When it was gone, she turned briskly, clicking her heels together, although she did not salute. "From the stars we came, and to the stars we return. From now, until the end of time. Therefore I commend this body to the deep." The familiar words of the military ceremony comforted her, as did the sight of coffin launching out of the station and toward the sun of Epsilon 3. A sense of peace fell over her, a weight off her shoulders. "Goodbye," she whispered one more time, and meant it at last.


End file.
